Every Fairytale
by lostfincayra
Summary: He was the man she never knew, yet knew all too well. He was a professional con man. He was turning her beautiful life into a nightmare. But hey, every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey, everyone! I'm starting this new story, so... Let's see where it goes! The first chapter may be dry, but I have some big ideas for the story. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything you may recognize. I just own the characters I create (Sibyl, her mom, Gerald, Louise, etc)**

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><p>"Sibyl, you're going to be late for work!" I heard my mother shout from our Birmingham kitchen.<p>

"Agh," I groaned, rolling over in my bed, reaching around aimlessly in search of my mobile.

A loud _thud_ was heard, and I averted my sleep-clouded gaze to the floor right of my bed, where I saw the small device lying atop the floor. Unwrapping myself from the jail of blankets in which I had created during my restless night, I stumbled out of the bed, silently praying that I hadn't caused a lovely crack down the middle of my double sided glass mobile phone.

I bent down and ever-so-ungracefully snatched the device up, offering a crooked smile to the still unmarked treasure, allowing a grunt of satisfaction to escape my throat.

I pressed the round button at the bottom front side of the device, and looked at the time. _9:48._

_9:48_?!

In a sudden rush of panic, I basically lunged myself into the bathroom, grabbing my toothbrush and nearly poking myself in the eye with the medicine cabinet door as I hunted urgently for the toothpaste.

Two and a half minutes later I was yanking open each of my dresser drawers and pulling out random articles that may or may not be matching or suitable for my employment, but with little time to spare, I couldn't complain.

Hoisting the a pair of light washed and knee-ripped jeans up my legs, I looked into the mirror above my nightstand and realized that I did, in fact, look like a product of a cemetery; what with dark grey rings below my eyes and my hair tangled into something closely akin to a bird's nest.

Next I slid a grey tank top over my head, followed by a cream-coloured lace top.

Tank right-side out? Check.

Top inside-out? Check.

No one will notice, right?

Slipping on a pair of TOMS that clashed slightly with the colour of my jeans, I rushed to the kitchen whilst attempting to tame my unruly mane with nothing more than my fingers.

"Well look who's finally up," my mum said, winking at me teasingly.

"Morning," I said, ignoring her snide remark.

Hastily, I grabbed a bagel from the cabinet above me and pulled it apart, adding a thick layer of cream cheese before reassembling it.

"Can I take your car? Mine needs gas," I asked my mother, with a mouthful of un-swallowed bagel swimming around my mouth.

"Use your manners, don't talk with food in your mouth," my mum said, tossing her set of keys at me.

I fumbled to catch the flying set of jingles before uttering a "thanks mum" and then throwing a satchel over my shoulder and rushing out the door, keys in one hand and bagel and phone in the other.

I rushed to the apartment's parking garage, crashing into my landlady on my way, proof of my ever graceful composure.

Once again clicking the home button of my phone with urgency, I looked at the clock which now read 9:58.

Holy crap.

Four minutes later I found myself shoving the remainder of my bagel into my mouth and jumping out of my car, making a mad dash into my workplace in hopes of avoiding an applicable tardy.

"Ahh, well look who finally decided to show up!" I heard a man say as I entered the library.

"Oh hush, would you? I overslept, I'm sorry!"

"I'll write you in as on time, Sibyl. But if it happens again…"

"I'll be written in as late, my mum will make a fuss and my boss will tell me it better not happen again, then I'll proceed to say 'sorry, ma'am, I carelessly stayed up 'til two in the morning, thus causing me to oversleep. Won't happen again, I promise.'" I giggled to Gerald, before grabbing my name clip and heading to find a rack of books in need of return to their homes.

"Louise?" I asked, looking around for the short blonde that separated the many books onto carts labeled by genre.

"Yes, Sibyl?" she called from her tiny office, closed off from the rest of the large room.

"Can I put the crime books back in their section, please?" I asked, my eyes darting around the room in search of the cart labeled "Law/Crime/Court".

"So you can goof off some more?" Louise asked with a sly grin, emerging from her cube of an office.

"Well may I?"

"Knock yourself out, darling," she replied with a light wave of her hand.

I smiled widely before walking over to the carts and spotting the one I was in search of, wheeling it out of its' place and heading out of the arched doorway.

I reached my destination, proceeding to pull out a number of files and books, placing them in their alphabetical orders, until one particular file caught my eye.

'_JAMES MORIARTY, CONSULTING CRIMINAL AND EXPERT CON-MAN_

_A collection of files regarding the world's greatest con man, hidden by many guises and unknown by most._'

What?

_James Moriarty_? As in Jim Moriarty? _As in the fictional nemesis of the fictional sleuth_?

Utterly confused, I rubbed my eyes before looking once again at the ecru coloured folder, a very fat folder, may I add.

Jim Moriarty simply happened to be my all time favourite fictional antagonist, specifically after Andrew Scott's brilliant job at portraying the man in BBC's Sherlock.

This must be an entirely different James Moriarty, I thought, quickly throwing the thought (and bit of hope?) that the man in these files was the same man in a show. A show about a sleuth that never existed, with an antagonist that never existed. It's a silly thought.

However, I pulled the stepping ladder off of the side of the cart and unfolded it so that I could place the file on a top shelf, hiding it away for the day so I could take it home with me later.

The day passed quickly, and before I knew it, I was writing off my shift and rushing back to the shelf with a ladder in hand. Hastily, I gripped the folder and skipped back to the front library desk, approaching Gerald once again.

"Gerry, I wanted to check these filed out, if that's okay?"

I handed the old man the file, and he inspected it before shooting me a toothy grin.

"You and your crime stories, you'll never get enough of them," he said, typing something into the computer, "one of these days, you're going to have to move away just so you can find new books to read! Won't be long and you'll have read everything on every shelf here!"

"I don't think I ever will," I said with a laugh, "but I don't plan on moving anytime too soon, so maybe I'll just have to read everything twice."

"Reading things twice doesn't suit you, Sibyl," Gerald said, handing the book back to me, "you're always craving new problems and you know it."

"That is true, too true, perhaps. I should be going!"

"Goodbye! Drive carefully."

"Thanks, I will! Bye, Gerald," I said, waving and turning before dashing out of the library.

And some part of me knew that I'd be up late again that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N): Hello, all!**

**Here I present you with the second installment of **_Every Fairytale_**.**

**(yay?)**

**This entire chapter probably seems incredibly far fetched, and I apologise for that. But hey, this is fanfiction after all. Isn't all of it far fetched?**

**Disclaimer: I think it's clear that I don't own much of anything here.**

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><p>Thirty minutes later (thank you, Birmingham rush hour) I find myself trotting into my house.<p>

I was exhausted as could be, yet I was glowing with excitement to explore the files of a con man. I loved the crime of conning – it was simply so much more creative than, say, a bank robbery or a shooting. Conning took skill and utter intelligence. A well crafted mind could produce the most believable and perfectly schemed cons. And I loved that.

I hurriedly changed into a pair of fuzzy sleeping flannels, and grabbed a random pajama top to accompany the pants. The outfit clashed and for the second time today, I could care less about committing a fashion offense.

I piled myself into the fluffy unmade bed, crime files in hand whilst I shoved my largely framed glasses onto my face.

Once again, I scanned the title and traced my index finger along the outer edge of the file before sighing lightly and opening it.

"Sibyl," I heard my mum call.

"Yes, mum?"

"I'm going to run to _Bournville Lane_ to get some takeaway for supper. What would you like?"

"Sweet and sour chicken is good," I replied, offering my mother a small smile.

"Alright, love. I'll be back in 'bout thirty," she said, examining the takeaway menu that she insisted upon keeping in the house before lightly tapping _Bournville Lane'_s number into her mobile phone and walking off to order.

I opened the file, on the first page was a paper print, printed on it was the same title as that on the folder, but in a courier text.

Flipping to the next page, I found a nearly blank paper minus the small paragraph that read,

"_this file holds all legally-publishable records regarding the life and criminal offenses of James Scott Everett as of December 31__st__, 2012._"

James Scott Everett? I was floored upon reading his last name.

I shared a last name with this con man. If that wasn't creepy, I wasn't sure what was.

Again, I turned the page and I don't believe anything could have prepared me for the picture that rested in the top right corner of the page.

That was a man I had seen many times before – there was nothing new about his face. It was all familiar.

He, James Scott Everett was Andrew Scott. James Moriarty.

My heart was beating so quickly, I could have sworn you might hear it from the kitchen. My skin had no doubt paled, and my mind was whirling.

Was I hallucinating? It would make sense, I knew when I saw the file that a certain part of me was hoping to find that the criminal from TV was real.

But now, I wasn't so sure that was what I wanted.

With a shaking hand, I pushed a strip of hair that had fallen to my eyes back to the top of my head and began reading.

_"James Scott Everett, widely known as James Moriarty or Andrew Scott is a professional 'con man' but is commonly known to be an actor. He has kept his legal identity and 'con career' sealed from the public outside of the courtroom (as of December, 2012)_

_Born James Scott Thomas Turrett, Everett was born to a wealthy family on the 21__st__ of October, 1976 to Ruth Elisa (Leon) Turrett and James Thomas Turret of Limerick, Ireland._

_He was born at Saint Munchin's Maternity Hospital (also known as Limerick Regional Maternity Hospital)._

_He was educated at Milford Grange Primary School in Castleroy, County Limerick before being removed from the public education system and being home educated through secondary school. At age 17, Everett began attending University of Limerick, where he studied Psychology and Sociology for two semesters before moving to Birmingham, England where he studied Psychology and Criminology at Newman University for one semester._

_ During the summer between his attendance at University of Limerick and Newman University, Everett used the criminal technique of conning on two women with which to pay for his education at Newman University. The crimes were not documented, and the names of the victims are unknown to date._

_After committing the criminal act, he changed his legal name from James Scott Thomas Turrett to James Scott Everett in a successful attempt to estrange himself from his parents._

_He was then accepted on short notice to Neman University with the aid of many fraudulent files regarding the identity of "James Scott Everett." It is yet unknown who created the fraudulent records, be it Everett or an accomplice._

_On his winter holiday (1995), Everett (aged 19 at the time) met and became romantically linked to 21 year old Analisa Margaret Kent_"

No.

_No._

I had no doubt in my mind that I was hallucinating. There was no way this was real.

My rational side argued that there were likely many _Analisa Margaret Kent'_s in the world, and at least one could be the same age as my mother. The probability of my mother being involved with this con man was very small. Barely existent.

My irrational side, however, argued that all of the facts could only add up to what I was suspecting.

Confused and concerned for my mental health, I stood from my bed and rushed to the loo, where I repeatedly splashed cool water over my face. I dried my damp skin with a towel before staring myself down in the mirror.

This was too much for me to handle. I assumed that it was a sick prank that some of my fellow employees had pulled.

For a good ten minutes I remained there, staring at my reflection until I heard the creak of the front door.

I opened the door slowly and walked out to the kitchen to greet my mother who smiled warmly at me before placing the takeaway food onto the kitchen island.

"Hey," I greeted, forcing a smile despite my internal terror, "here, I'll get the forks."

I opened a kitchen drawer and extracted two forks from the silverware organiser and placed one next to my mother while keeping the other in my hand.

"You ready to eat, then?" my mother asked.

"I'm starving," I lied. Twenty minutes ago, that statement had been true. However, that was before I read the most startling news of my life.

For minutes, we sat in silence. The only words spoken were my mum's praises over how "exquisite" her meal was.

"Sibyl? You seem quiet, dear. Is something wrong?"

"I'm good," I squeaked.

"I can tell you're not," she replied as her blue eyes bored into my very soul.

"I read something startling today," I began nervously, "I'm not quite sure what to take of it."

"Oh?" she prodded, "Elaborate, if you will."

"I found a file, yeah? That big fat one I was holding when you came into my room," I said, waiting for my mother to nod me on.

She nodded slowly before shoveling a mouthful of yellow rice into her mouth.

"I found that while organising at the library. It was about a con man," I paused, hoping my mother would take my hint. "See, he shared our last name. I didn't think much of it. But I read one very disturbing piece and I stopped reading. I locked myself in the washroom until you got home."

"Locked yourself in the washroom? Sibyl! You never get scared, what's going on?"

"Mum, you were in that file," I choked, "It scared me! I was so confused that I didn't bother to read on."

"What? Why?" she asked curiously.

"It said you and him – the criminal," I began, "were 'romantically linked'," I whispered, waving my fingers in the air to make air quotes.

My mum was seemingly amused, but tried to hide her grin as she proceeded to ask me his name "Yeah? What was this con man slash ex boyfriend of mine named?"

At that point, I was convinced this entire thing was a prank.

"James Scott Everett."

My mother's face dropped, and so did her heart, I assumed. If she was anything like I right then, she had quite the lump in her throat as well.

"What's that name mean to you, mum?" I asked, silently begging for her to tell me it was a prank or a mistake.

"A con man?" she asked quietly, more to herself than to me.

Without a word, I stood up from the stool I had been perched on and trudged to my bedroom, returning with the file.

I opened it up to the picture and handed it to my mother whose eyes were glossed over.

"I haven't seen him in sixteen years, but I loved him, Sibyl," she said.

"Mum. Is he my father?"

"Let's go sit on the couch. I have a story to tell you," she replied.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello, all. Great news. I'm still alive.**

**Here's chapter three of **_Every Fairytale_**. Do enjoy.**

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><p>I headed straight for the sofa, stomach feeling as though it was flopping every which way. I felt sick with emotion - anticipation? Fear? Both, and a host of others, I decided.<p>

Sullenly, I sank into the _over-sized-and-squishy-from-use_ sofa, followed by my mother who pulled a rugged cream afghan from the back of the sofa and spread it over her legs and my thighs.

"It was December of ninety-five, I was on holiday from university and was lying low. My boyfriend of three years and I had ended things in November after I discovered he had been cheating on me for two months. It hurt like hell and I was perfectly content with sulking in my flat for the entire break. My flatmate, however, decided she was going to force me to attend a Christmas party with her and that it was 'high-time I found a new guy to screw'. I did not approve of her idea, nor did I want to screw anyone. I wanted only to reverse time to before my ex had cheated on me, and cruelly end our relationship before it turned sour and before I got hurt," she paused and smiled lightly as I pulled my knees to my chest and continued, "I gave in after an hour and a half of consistent begging. She shoved me into a skinny-little-navy-coloured dress and slapped some makeup on my face before calling me presentable and pushing me out the door. The party was huge, at her wealthy uncle's house, and I was completely lost. I didn't want to talk to anyone, but instead I planned to stand in a corner and be miserable for the evening. My plans were foiled when an incredibly charming and handsome brunette - _James_ - showed up, a cup of spiked punch in each hand. We talked, a lot. And we clicked, and I gave him the number to my telephone and he gave me his own. And we fell in love. After a month, I decided that we were serious and we... Well. Two months after that I found out that I was expecting," She looked up and I nodded.

I knew it was coming but I still felt incredibly dizzy.

"I was about to graduate from uni and I was so afraid of how James would react when I told him. I knew I would be fine but he wasn't anywhere near graduating. But he was so happy when I told him. I still remember how his face lit up. He told me it would be alright. That we could move in together and I could stay home with the baby most of the time and work a part-time job a few days a week - to help with the bills. Your grandparents paid for my education in full so I had no concern with that. And we did, move in together... Well, he moved in with Cynthia and I. We were married at a chapel. Just my family and close friends attended. Life was wonderful for the next year. We were a family plus my flatmate. She made for great company and she absolutely adored my little girl. My precious Sibyl Emilia Everett. I was on cloud nine and I didn't have any plans to come down. But there was trouble in paradise. I lost my cafe` job and James said it was time for me to use my degree. I agreed, and when James landed me a too-good-to-be-true well-paying research job at Aston University, I thought we were back on the bright side. But only two weeks later, I came home from work and he wasn't there already. I blew it off, figured he'd be home soon. I cooked supper. He wasn't home. I panicked. Waited up till two in the morning. It wasn't until the next morning that I thought to go into our room - Cynthia had spent the evening dealing with you and putting you to bed because I was out of my mind.

His clothes weren't in our chest, but most of his other things remained. He left me a note in my jewelry box that said, 'I'm sorry for leaving. I love you, and I'll never stop. I can't stay any longer,' I cried myself to sleep that night. And the next. And continued that way for two months. I tried to track him down but he was gone without a trace. I tried to pick back up on life and Cynthia encouraged me to move in with your grandparents for stability. They welcomed me home and I was able to work fewer hours at Aston so that I could see you more. Now we're here."

Any normal human being in my situation would've remained motionless on that sofa, heart in throat and mind pulled under to some sort of mental-purgatory. Oh, not me though. I am an idiot. All I could manage was, "well. I guess this kind of ruined the Chinese takeaway,"

Apparently my idiocy helped. My mother, who had ended her story - our story - with sad, tear-filled eyes, was now erupting into a fit of child-like giggles.

"That was actually remorse, mum. I quite enjoy the sweet and sour chicken,"

"Are you going to say anything about what I just told you?"

"I need time, mum," I said, patting her shoulder lightly before peeling the afghan from my lap and trudging into the kitchen where I dumped my Chinese food onto a plate and shoved it ungracefully in the microwave. I seemed so chill about learning that _my _FATHER_ was one of the world's _GREATEST CON MEN. I was not, in fact, chill. I knew that I was undoubtedly in shock and denial and I simply didn't want to allow my mind to rest on the subject. Regardless, my mind was whirling.

_I am a terrible daughter_, I thought. I left my mother to sit alone after telling me what is probably the most emotionally painful thing that she has ever experienced.

I'm not selfless like her, though. I'm selfish. ...Just like _him._

I needed to find him _and smash his face into a wall, remove his entrails, and burn his remains for what he'd done. _Not that. That's disgusting.

I needed to find him.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope this satisfies? **

**Also, for any of you who are reading 'Tired of Waiting': I plan to update soon. Just thought I should let you know.**


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